saks, american express, oscar, and my ass

saksex? amsaks? oscarass? amsexass?

anyways.

yesterday, despite all of my promises to myself that i was not going to buy clothes until either A) next season or B) my debt to the gods of bed bath & beyond, crate & barrel, the company store and williams-sonoma was paid off, i found myself needing to buy jeans. needing them. i had to have them. right then. i felt frumpy, my other pair of ass-hugging jeans fell apart (crappy sevens! bewarned!) and premium denim was the only thing that was going to make me feel better. i don't know why i thought that. shopping for jeans is something akin to trying on bikini after bikini under neon lights for your first beach vacation of the year, when you're pale and still holding onto a couple pounds of winter chub. it is not the most pleasant thing for a woman to do.

but, addiction, especially to dark washes and unique stitching, can drive us to do such things.

so, after doing the late-night check of the wires, i wind my way over from conde's offices to saks fifth avenue, where i usually have a lot of luck on their fifth floor denim collection. i arrive at 7pm. the doors are still open, but the store is officially closed. no matter. nothing is going to stop me at this point. i pull 3 darkly appealing, not-so-distressed pairs off the racks, in my usual size.

the chosen few:
- rock & republic's "skynard": $178
- paige premium's "laurel canyon": $179
- AG "angel": $130

and i buy them. all. american express: $527.79

american express loves me.

on the subway home, i'm feeling minor guilt but mostly euphoria. how i managed such glee without even having tried a single pair on, i don't know. but i'm happy anyways. i get home, and within minutes have stripped down into the skynards. hunh. they're kinda hot. but i can't breathe. must. take. off.

angel - eh. boooring.

laurel canyon - hunh. i like these. but ... do i like them enough? the front pockets wrinkle a bit. if i bend over, my undies stick out the back, which makes me crazy. i can breathe, but if my thighs had lungs, they certainly wouldn't be able to.

i sit in these jeans all night. i eat some eggplant, finish building some furniture, unpack my last box, and wait for C and V to show up with the BEST GIFT EVER, an adorable ottoman that feeds my addiction for things that are orange and clean and cute. C assures me they are not too tight. i am skeptical. i decide to sleep on it. i take them off. my legs take a deep sigh of relief.

this morning, i try them on again and am not satisfied. so after my morning gig, i head back to saks before going into the office (this is actually considered "work" in my life ... my job is absurd) and, i meet my savior. oscar.

oscar and i start a fitting room. and i select, oh, just a few more pairs. oscar says, "girl, you KNOW your body, don't you?"

*blush*

the chosen few:
- joe's jeans "honey": $158
- joe's jeans "socialite": $158
- rock & republic's "costello": $176
- rock & republic's "roth": $176

things i learned? i am not quite bootylicious enough to warrant honey status. socialite is very flattering, but mmm, a little too meatpackingdistrictwhitegirlwithcamisoleandblazer for my taste. costello was super hot, but i need something a teensy bit more versatile. but roth. oh, roth. they're hot? i think? oscar?

"oh girl. it's like a $200 pushup bra. look at how the pockets give you that nice butt cleave. these are it. your ass is really doing it for me in those jeans."

i love you, oscar.

oscar asks if i need hemming services. i say no, thanks, i have a tailor. he says, you won't have to get too much off. "i mean, you are definitely a girl that wears 3 inch heels."

*blush* i am now! i am SO that girl! i WILL be that girl!

back to the register. with memories of david lee roth's namesake jeans plastered onto my butt, i hand over the amex yet again. rock & republic's roth total? $190.74. credited back to my account: $337.05.

happiness gauge, 1.25 hours after purchase was complete? high.